The Irish standard., 1887-07-16

grant-thrOnged cities or the W est. lie
soon gave evidence that he was not de-
dcient in the poetical faculty. and even
in his earliest productions showed that
he had not wooed the muse in vain.
The literary halo that enshrined the
youthful enthusiasts Of '4S, and gave to
their revolutionary theories no uncer-
tain stamp Of genuine creative power.
flashed upon the thoughtful boy-poet by
the Amer as a revelation from on
hlgn; and, though repressive measures,
brutally enacted, dispersed that bril-
liant group Of litterateur5 into what
YVES for many Of them life-l ng exile,
their teachings had at leas. found re-
sponsive thrill in that young heart,
from thence offered up on the shrine Of
country. From the departure Of the
last of the Confederate leaders in chains,
TO the faithful hour a quarter Of a CEN
tury later On, when he stood calmly in
the same dock. confronting his foes
with a smile Of benign good humor,
Kickham, by voice, and pen. and deed
t|aided and abetted" the manly doctrine
Of Irish resistance la mort.
At this time the 'toid marble town Of
Kilkenny was the centre OF great lit
erary attraction. DIR. Cane had Just
commenced the "Celt,'' a little weekly
agazine possessing merits OF the high
est order, and for years Kckham's pen
enriched it's pages with ballad. song,
story and essay. Such fine literary
work as Rory of the Iill.' "Poor
Mary Maher,' q touching biography OF
Edward Walsh, the i'll fated author of
"Mo Craoibhin Cuo,' and many other
beautiful lyrics, brought the subject Of
this memoir into deserved prominence
as poet and novelist. The Irish People
newspaper, which appeared in the early
winter of 1864, had much in it Of the
old fire that had but smoult2ered under
the surface for many q weary year
Gavan Duffy left Ireland a corpse" on
the ''dissecting table" The writer's of
with more persistent energy than Kick
ham, electrified the remains" and, 10!
once again half a million Of the million
Of the blood and bone of Ireland sprang
into armed life against their ancient
foe, It is not at ali intended to enter
largely into the details of his connec--
tion with the Irish revolutionary
movement OF '65. Adler pens will de-
lineate that period Of our history, and
draw from it's failure a lesson Of hope
and earnest resolve. In this cursory
glance at Charles J. Kickham"s po!iti-
cal career, can find no apter measure
Of the man and his mode Of dealing
with many-sided Irish questions than
what he quoted from Dayis, moment
precedin. his sentence of fifteen years
penal servitude:
God Of Justice!' I sighed, "send your spirit
On these lords, SO cruel and proud;
And soften their wrath and relax their frown
Or else, cried aloud
To hunt them at length from Off the land
With the spirit of this noble utter
ance Oh his lips and in his heart, one of
the purest, noblest, and worthiest of the
Irishmen of our own day passed from
the dock into convict's cell.
10 the broad stream of brilliant
verse, evoked by the political whirl-
wind of As. Kickham contributed
Of note. Indeed, he may be
said, with perhaps one exception, not
to have tuned his Tyre until later days,
when gloom and desolation overspread
the fair face of his beloved Erin. Cor
may be classed as one of
the happiest efforts Of kickham's S ear
lier style, and, as in all his efforts: he
confines himself 10 the WelI~lnown
scenery Of the Amer side, by the foot
of Slieyenamon.
Oh, sweet Slierenamon, you're my darling and
With your soft swelling bosom and mien like
BRIDE
AAAu liz E11S'oGS ~ oliO Si11A vi IL 1CCtAOM
battle with the hope that
The Saxon might hear
The first shout of the onset from Corrg.na Clear
1t is also from this dashing little piece
we catch a glimpse Of q certain Mary
The poets first conception of ''loye's
young dream"
y street ballad, Patrick Sheehan,"
became very popular melody after the
Jrimean War: and the stentorian vocal |
powers of many a wandering minstrel
man, did ample justice TO the wall of
Poor Blind Sheehan, from the Glen OF
Several Of the verses pos
less a rugged beauty very seldom
,qualleu in lOftler strains
PATRICK sHEEHAN.
My name is Patrick Sheallan,
My years are thirty-four;
Tipperary is my native place.
Not far from Galtymore:
l came of honest parents,
But now they re lying low;
And many q pleasant day spent
In the Glen of Aherlow
My father died; closed his eyes
0utci1o orr hin door.